


The Dead We Drag Along

by Milkyway_Bread



Category: You (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Gen, Joe seriously messed this kid up, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25030063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milkyway_Bread/pseuds/Milkyway_Bread
Summary: Paco steers clear of book stores these days, which puzzles his mother a lot. After coming to California, the last book he had bought had been carefully stored away under his floorboards. The book the Guinevere Beck wrote. The book about the girl who he had left to die in that basement.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	The Dead We Drag Along

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger/Content Warning: mentions of self harm, suicidal thoughts and past abusive relationship.

It's not true.

The seeds of truth have been sown within the pages, but they haven't been allowed to flourish. Instead, the words flowed like a familiar tune played on the wrong key, a cheap copy of what was real.

The book was not true, that much Paco knew.

Moving to California should have been a blessing, and it was, at first. He had left everything behind, ready to start anew. Of all the things he brought with him, Beck was not supposed to be one of them.

Ron came with him. He was there with every slammed door and frustrated yell. Every plate thrown against the wall and every begging apology that came after. Mom was not Ron, but Ron stood behind her sometimes, Paco could tell. That was okay, because Ron was dead, and ghosts could only haunt him, not hurt him.  
  
Joe was there too, less overt but still there. There was a bookstore around the corner that Paco frequented, and Joe would stand over his shoulder and point out all the classics. He would sneer at the contemporary works that Paco's friends read ( _they're not your friends, if they read something like that, Pac_ ). Joe smiled a lot, through the nice bookstore clerk and his history teacher, and Paco flinched at those just as much as he flinched at Ron-like sneers.

So Ron and Joe were there. That was alright. Ron was dead and Joe would _never_ hurt him (because - because -).

Beck was not supposed to be there.

Until she was, plastered on every book store and praised on every reader's blog. Paco would not have recognised her name - he had always though Beck was her first name, not her last - but he recognised the way she smiled, her eyes accusatory.

"I couldn't betray Joe," Paco told her, " _You_ probably did something wrong."

Beck only smiled.

Paco wasn't going to buy Beck's book. He hoped that Joe and Beck had worked things out and moved on, or something. But it wasn't easy when he heard Beck begging at his door to be let out.

Ron seemed to be busy, these days, because all Paco could hear was Beck. In his dreams, it was Beck who Joe killed, not Ron, and Paco tried to muster the same pleasure at seeing her dead.

Beck was dead, Paco found out soon after. Dead, deceased, gone. She had joined Ron in hell, and Joe had probably done it.

Good. Beck probably deserved it. Like Ron did.

(After finding out, Paco spent the afternoon throwing up in the school restrooms. He couldn't sleep that night because _Beck wouldn't stop smiling and screaming and -_ )

"Maybe you should see a therapist," Miss Miller, his English teacher said, clutching an essay Paco had written (something about _Is Murder Ever Justifiable,_ which it was because Joe said it was), "There's nothing wrong with it, Paco. I'm just worried."

Paco smiled up at her like Joe always did, and Miss Miller let it drop.

That day, Paco went to the store and tried to buy the book.

"Sorry kid," Joe - no, Paul - said, "The book is rated M."

(Joe would have given it to him, no questions asked.)

Paco nodded in understanding and slipped a copy under his jacket.

Paul smiled, "You're a good kid, you know. I should start giving you discounts."

Paco said that he would like that very much, thank you, and tried to remember if Joe had been smiling when he killed Ron.

He tried to remember was _he_ had been smiling when he watched Ron be stuffed in a trunk.

Paco read the book in one night, under his blankets with a little torch, listening to his neighbours yell and his mother cry because Ron must have visited her nightmares tonight.

 _It's okay if things are hard sometimes,_ Beck had said, _You can be a good person. And have a really good life. That's what I want, for you._

Paco put the book down, trembling.

 _Love is more important_.

Paco loved Joe. He was the only person who had consistently cared.

Paco loved Joe, even though Joe killed Beck. And Benji. And Peach. And framed Nicky.

Paco loved Joe, because Joe killed Ron, because Joe protected him.

 _This is a fresh start_ , Paco thought, shoving the book under his bed, under the loose floorboard, and dimming the lights.

He didn't think about Beck, and he remembered Joe fondly. And he put the book out of his head.

* * *

Except, it came back to him. Or perhaps, he went back to it.

The dead haunted him, even though he never knew them. Benji was vivid in his mind - he sold sodas or something, and he must have been insufferable, no wonder Joe -

Peach was in every popular girl at school, nose turned up and designer clothes. They sneered at Paco's old shirts and torn pants, and they laughed when they think he wasn't looking. Paco can almost imagine being Joe, pointing the gun, the cool metal of the trigger.

Beck's book was not detailed, because she didn't know and she wasn't there, but Paco looked up news reports and articles, and his stomach churned.

Paco felt - he felt -

He didn't know what he felt.

He tried to reconcile smiling Joe, giving him a sandwich and a book, with the man who killed Peach and Benji and _Beck_.

No.

Joe didn't kill Back.

Paco did.

He looked at pictures of Joe he has saved up, and picture of him on Beck's Instagram, and pictures of Peach and Benji and burned it all into his mind. He saw photos of Nicky being shoved into the police car, confusion so apparent in his eyes.

He thought about Beck.

And he wondered what she had done wrong.

(Gotten messed up with the wrong man, just like Mom -)

Because Joe must have killed them for a reason, like he killed Ron. Joe was a good man, one of the best, and there must have been a reason.

Paco understood. He loved Joe. Beck had never mattered.

* * *

Paco wondered if any of them _wanted_ to die.

He thought that he might.

It's a _bad thought_. His mother would miss him dearly (she never saved him from Ron) and he had friends, sort-of, and he's doing well enough in school. He had so much to live for.

Beck had had so much to live for.

She's a bitch, honestly. That's the only way Paco can put it. Nothing gave her the right to worm her way into his heart, eating him from inside out. Paco could feel her crawling under his skin, and it made him want to _slice her out_.

He tried, once, to cut her out. But only red came out, not Back, not her pretty smile and cold, dead eyes.

Paco was losing his mind.

Ron found it hilarious.

Joe tried to be kind, tried to remind him that _Beck deserved it_ , but Joe was too good, he could never understand what someone as _bad_ as Paco was going through.

Paco steered clear of book stores these days, which puzzled his mother a lot.

"Maybe going outside will do you some good," Mum said, smiling ( _why do they all smile so goddamn much_ ).

Mum broached the topic of therapy too, but it's not like they can afford it. Perhaps sunlight is the next best thing.

He can get through this, he just needs to ignore Beck and Ron, and rely on Joe and Mum. He can get through this.

He can get through this, if only _they would leave him alone_.

* * *

He called Mooney's.

Ethan picked up.

"Oh, hey kid. I suppose you're looking for Joe?"

"I am," Paco replied, hands clammy and heart pounding, "Is he there?"

"No. I think Beck must have really effected him, you know? He left, I don't know where. Such a tragedy -"

Paco ended the call and threw the phone down.

Joe probably got a new start. That's okay. That's _good_. Joe was a good guy, he deserved a new start, away from Beck.

Paco wondered what he would have said if Joe _had_ picked up.

He didn't understand why his hands were trembling and why there was something lodged in his throat.

But it's alright. It's good. Joe was probably fine, living his life and Paco can move on.

It's _fine_.

* * *

_You can put the bad things behind you_ , Joe had said, but it seems that they _are_ constantly behind him, following him in his shadows.

The bad things are following Paco around because _he's bad_.

He left Beck to die.

(Paco thought he might hate Joe, just a little, but that's stupid. He loved Joe. Joe _saved_ him.)

* * *

He felt like Ron, that day.

That's why he screamed at Mum, "Why didn't you get me out of there? I was your son!"

Mum looked so guilty. Good.

He felt like Ron, but he wondered if he would feel like Joe. If he could make someone _bleed_.

Well, he made his mother's heart bleed, and that was good enough.

(He wished desperately to be like Beck, to be kind and innocent and the victim. But he's the villain. He's Ron. And one day, he'd be Joe.)

* * *

"I killed someone."

The therapist, Dr Vicky startled. (Paco laughed every time he heard that name, trying not to mistake it for _Nicky_ )

"Who did you kill?" Dr Vicky asked carefully.

"Guinevere Beck."

Dr Vicky gave him a sympathetic look, "I understand that you knew here, when you were in New York. Her death must have come as a shock to you."

"I killed her," Paco said desperately.

_I killed someone, so shouldn't I die too? Ron died for so much less.  
_

"I understand why it might feel that way."

She didn't understand shit.

Beck understood though. She was standing with Joe, hand in hand on her Instagram page, smiling.

They were always smiling.

* * *

Paco sat on a too-soft couch, feeling his weight sink in. He tried to picture Dr Nicky, rotting away in jail.

"Is it better to be imprisoned for life or be given a death sentence?" Paco asked.

Dr Vicky paused, "I suppose I'd rather be imprisoned for life. At least I might be able to escape."

Paco thought of Dr Nicky, rotting away for something that he didn't do. He thought of Joe, walking free and _smiling_ , because Paco was the only one who knew.

If Paco had let Beck out that day, would Joe have killed him instead? Or would Joe have hugged him and forgiven him, with the same kindness that he had always shown.

"I think I'd rather die."

Rather die, than rot away, like he was doing now.

* * *

"What would you say is your greatest fear?" Dr Vicky asked.

"Becoming like him."

"Like your mother's ex-boyfriend?" Dr Vicky prompted, "Ron?"

Paco giggled slightly.

Oh, how innocent for her to think that _Ron_ was the devil in his head.

Ron couldn't do shit anymore.

He was _dead_.

Paco remembered well who had killed him.

* * *

Joe had been smiling, Paco decided.

He had been smiling when he killed Beck.

Paco promised he would smile too, when he wiped Dr Vicky's little smile off her face.

"Do you hate me?" Dr Vicky asked.

"How astute."

"Can you tell me why?"

"You smile too much."

"I see."

Maybe Paco should tear her eyes out, and then she would actually see.

* * *

Paco didn't get better. He didn't think he _could_. Ron had left him, but Joe was still there and so was Beck. 

That's alright. Paco didn't need to get better. He just needed to get through life. Ignore his demons and step forward everyday. He didn't need to be better, he just needed to take care of Mum, and then he could die peacefully.

Did Beck die peacefully? Or did Joe draw it out?

The the book Beck wrote stayed under his bed, buried and forgotten like Beck herself was. Only Paco knew the truth, and he sealed his lips and kept his head down. No one would believe him. Joe had made sure of that.

He followed Joe's teachings religiously these days.

He read classics, and somehow kept himself from burning the pages that were narrated by Joe in his mind.

He ordered takeout, ignoring how it tasted like blood and ash and acid in his mouth.

He sneered at his peers and judged them from afar, suppressing every need to interact with them instead.

Above all, he smiled, and never let the world know what a monster he was.

He remembered Joe, stuck by what the man had taught him. Except for the last lesson Joe - _his father_ , in a sense - had taught him. Paco couldn't bring himself to follow the last of Joe's teachings.

Joe had killed the person he loved.

Paco wouldn't do that.

Because he loved Joe.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there, thanks for reading. Sorry if there were any mistakes with tenses and such.
> 
> Honestly, I have no idea what I just wrote, oops. I intended it to have a much nice ending but, yeah, I like torturing my favourite characters.


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